Raging Passions (5 page)

As the stranger’s gaze caressed over Regina, a slow, sexy smile emerged. Leaning against the monolithic headstone, he cocked his head and regarded her lazily. He was beautiful. “Let me guess. Left at the altar?”

Regina glared at him. Gorgeous or not, she wanted nothing to do with this man. Or any man. Damn them all. “Leave me alone.”

He straightened. “I’ll leave you alone.” He glided a step closer without a sound or even rustling the grass.
“If I can kiss the bride first.”

“Go away!” she screamed. Couldn’t she find a moment’s peace? Regina collected her gown and spun away from him, but when she looked up, he was in front of her.

Regina blinked up at him.
“How?”

“Shhh.”
He pressed a cold finger to her lips to silence her. “Don’t speak.”

And she couldn’t. Regina breathed hard, pushing against the will she felt enfolding her with gentle persistence. Still she could not utter a sound.

The man slipped his strong hands around her waist. Regina shoved against his arms as hard as she could. No scream escaped her throat, so she screamed her fury in her head.

In a lover’s soft murmur, he said, “Don’t resist.”

Regina’s body relaxed instantly. As he cuddled her into his chest, she melted into him. She didn’t want to, she really didn’t, but her body didn’t listen. Inside, Regina flailed against the control, but outwardly, she settled more snuggly into his embrace.

He rested his cheek on top of her head and rocked her lovingly. Circling his arms around her more securely, he hugged her to him as if she were incredibly precious. “You want me,” he told her.

She didn’t. She wanted Caden. She wanted him so badly and felt his betrayal so deeply it left no room for the foreign emotions snaking from the man holding her. His power brushed against her heart, searching for access. Regina shut him out by holding tightly to her love and anguish.

He bent lower so his face stroked Regina’s cheek. Inhaling, he savored her fragrance. A riot of tingling chased across her skin. His cool lips chilled her ear even as his words froze her heart. “You love me.”

Swooning, Regina clung to the man. Her arms clutched around his neck. Her fingers spiked through his wonderfully soft hair. With each struggling gasp, her breasts rubbed and tingled against his hard chest. Even through the heavy petticoats of her skirt, her hips ground against his thighs. Everything was spinning. Regina fought for control.

He lowered his mouth to her throat. His oddly chilled breath spilled over her skin, raising goose bumps all over her body. Her nipples tightened until they almost burned to be pressed so firmly against him. He repeated, “You love me.”

The force of his words flung Regina back until only his arms prevented her fall. Her head hung back and to the side until her neck ached to be so stretched. She closed her eyes and fought the influence stroking at her soul, trying to coax entrance. She didn’t love this strange man. She didn’t. She loved Caden.
Only Caden.
And he’d abandoned her. He’d never truly loved her.
God, how she hated him for his betrayal.

The man’s icy lips parted and closed over her throat. His tongue circled and teased over her pulse, making her eyes roll back with unwanted pleasure. She clutched at the liquidy, smooth fabric of the back of his silk shirt. She didn’t mean to squirm wantonly into his body, but with each swirl of his tongue, he marked her body with passion for him. Her body and her mind split. Physically, she gave herself over to the desire spilling through her cells. Mentally, she spat curses at him as if that might drive him away.

The pricks of pain from her neck shot through Regina like a jolt of electricity. Her body bucked with orgasm and she heaved herself into him. Each long draft of her blood he consumed slammed her into him like a tidal wave. Frantic tingling rocketed down her body, numbing her to every other sensation until she felt nothing but his mouth on her neck and a frantic buzzing.

Caden!
she
screamed mentally.
Help me!

But he didn’t come.
Because he didn’t love her.
He’d never loved her. He’d only been using her. Regina opened her eyes even though everything had gone black. She hated Caden. She hated him and every other son-of-a-bitch man on the planet.

Weakly, Regina tasted something. It burned her tongue and the sharp, aromatic scent crackled like flame in her sinuses. It flooded her mouth and dribbled out the corners.

“Swallow,” the vibrant voice ordered. The word moved through her like a strike of a bass drum. Regina swallowed.

More of the thick liquid came and again he willed her to take it in. The more she
consumed,
the more something inside of her changed, twisted and unfurled. Regina’s eyes refocused and her body returned to her awareness.

The vampire held her, his arms under her back and knees. Her face nuzzled into his throat, which now felt pleasantly warm to her. Breaking her mouth from the bleeding gash in the soft curve where his neck sloped to his chest, she licked away the dribbles of blood that had escaped in attractive drizzles down his muscled chest. His shirt was unbuttoned and the fingers of one of her hands caressed and teased his stiff nipple. He smiled down at her, so handsome, so stunning. Softly, he reminded her, “You love me.”

She snarled a smile that rubbed her lips against her newly formed fangs. Even as she caressed him, she said, “I hate you.”

Rage recalled the look of confusion on Ripper’s face. It had been priceless. Only later when she heard the vampire saying, “As you are taken, so you become”, did she understand. Ripper had tried to rebirth her while she was passionately in love with him, making her his willing lover for as long as he wished to keep her. If he ever tired of her, she would have been left in agony, yearning eternally for his affection. Instead, she’d clung to her fury. Taken in rage, she had become Rage.

If not for his lies, she wouldn’t have been in that cemetery. If not for his betrayal, she would not have become a vampire. And now here he
was,
an executioner. If given the chance, would he finish the job he started and rip her heart out for real this time?

“Rage?”
Shade’s deep voice vibrated like a bass along her bones. She’d not noticed his approach, so deeply had she descended into her own reverie. Now that she was awake to the present, she angled her head to glance up and back at him. Standing a breath away, Rage could just feel the radiant warmth of his body against her back. His sturdy hands anchored to her hips familiarly in a hold a dancer would use to control his partner. He was always trying to touch her and usually she’d snap at him, more often physically than verbally. But his grip felt comforting on her body.
Steadying.
Reassuring.
He asked, “Are you going to kill him?”

Frowning, she clenched her fists. He’d saved that little girl from Calvin when Rage couldn’t help her. Why had he been there at all? The executioner in the basement was not the man she’d known. “I don’t know yet.”

Shade reached inside the pocket of his leather vest and handed her a photograph. “He had this.”

Accepting the picture, Rage watched Shade’s stony expression. He wasn’t happy.
Seriously not happy.
His jaw muscles flexed under his tanned skin as he clenched his teeth.
His almost-black eyes gouged into her as if he meant to influence her somehow, but lacked the Kinsman power to pull it off. Rage looked at the picture.

It was worn and the edges battered. An old fold had creased the paper so a line scratched through the two people depicted at waist level. They both wore sweatshirts and jeans in the breezy autumn afternoon. Colorful fall leaves painted the out of focus background like a watercolor dream. Caden had his arms wrapped around Regina’s waist and was hugging her to him. She’d arched back to see him because he stood several inches taller than she. Her fingers tangled in his hair. His hands cupped her ass and kept her stomach pressed demandingly to his lap. They were smiling and laughing, so consumed in each other that they hadn’t noticed the photographer.

Rage smoothed the photo with her fingertips. Why had he been carrying this?

“Ripper wants you to go to him,” Shade said, his voice flat.

Rage blinked at him. “Why didn’t he
Summon
me?”

Shade didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. She knew Ripper hadn’t used his call to force her to comply because he wanted her to go to him willingly.
If she didn’t go…
She shuddered. She’d only had to refuse once to learn that lesson.

Sighing with resignation, Rage turned to leave. Shade caught her elbow and stopped her.

His voice was dark and low, like the voice a lion would have if transformed into a human shape. “I don’t like the taste of this situation, Rage.”

She glanced up at him. He’d cleaned up after his fight with Caden and only a few minor scratches marred his strongly handsome face. His loose dark hair spilled in careless waves around his face, framing his sturdy cheekbones. His burly biceps flexed as he tightened his grip. The discord wasn’t easy for Shade, and Rage knew his personal struggle. More than any other vampire she knew, Shade craved the comfort of a solid sense of family, dysfunctional though it may be. Loyalty to Ripper came with the blood tie, as did his loyalty to Rage and Dean. It was as if he needed that impression of family like a lion depended on his pride. In his own way he always tried to be a peacemaker. It was a losing battle, but Shade never gave up trying. He continued. “Smooth this with Ripper. Give him what he wants.”

Rage glanced from Shade to where Dean leaned on his elbow on the cot and watched her, alert for her answer. Of Ripper’s present Offspring, they three were the eldest, the most likely to survive to become Kinsmen. In almost two years he’d not even attempted to harm any of them, just left them to their own appetites and devices. Then in one night Ripper nearly killed Dean and threatened to feed Rage to the clan.

“I don’t want to face the Final Death any more than you do,” Rage whispered, confiding in them, her vampire brothers, in a way she never had before. In a way she would not have done just the night before. Something inside had changed. Something she could not pinpoint. Some change that seeing Caden again had triggered. For the first time since she’d met them, she didn’t want to see Dean and Shade come to harm. It was so unlike her that she didn’t know how to define it. She assured them, “I’ll do what I can.”

Stoically, Rage headed toward Ripper’s room. Time to face her punishment, she thought. At least in her miniskirt and halter top she was dressed for it.

Chapter Four

It didn’t matter how softly she trod down the carpeted hallway, Ripper would hear her footsteps and know she was approaching. Rage wanted to slip into her room, the one next door to Ripper’s. She didn’t want him to see the photo of her and Caden that she still clenched in her hand and wanted to place under her pillow, but he’d know she detoured, so instead she just paused and slipped the photograph under the door.

Straightening, she faced Ripper’s door. He’d left it cracked, expecting her.

Swallowing her reluctance, Rage forced herself to cross the last few feet to his door. Slipping her fingers through the crack so she could control the door, she pushed it open just enough to glance inside. Ripper hadn’t
Summoned
her, forcing her to him with his will. Instead he was doing something worse, something even more difficult for her to endure. Making her suppress her nature and obey him of her own free will. She hated that. She hated surrendering anything to him because he demanded everything of her.

The room lights were dimmed. Ripper’s massive chamber rippled with deep color. Black curtains fluttered in the fragrant night breeze beside the open French doors leading to his private balcony that overlooked the lush grounds. The furniture was deep leather and a dark, stained oak. Midnight-blue gauze curtains were bound by satin cords to the tall, sculpted posts at the corners of the massive bed.

Rage knew firsthand how deeply soft and padded the bed was. Her skin recalled the satiny slide of the amethyst-colored sheets. The scent of vanilla clung to his pillows from the scented oil he frequently burned. Tonight, he was burning rose essential oils. Cobalt-colored candles burned on the bedside tables, casting a soft flickering light over Ripper’s deliciously defined body.

He watched her hesitant entrance with a soft smile tugging just at the edges of his full and luscious lips. Even in the subdued lighting, his pale-blue eyes shone vividly and riveted her with their unwavering interest. His stylish blond hair spilled in casually sexy disarray back from his face and across his pillow. When Ripper was relaxed, like now, he looked so young, very early twenties.

His burgundy silk shirt hung open off his shoulders and draped around his perfectly toned chest as he reclined against the mound of pillows, brandishing his perfection. His arms were drawn back and tucked under his pillow in a posture that displayed him perfectly. Rage’s gaze glided down his smooth chest and abs, and then to the thin line of hair leading from his navel down inside his pants. The button of his slacks was undone, a tease, a promise of more. He was barefoot and his ankles crossed casually.

For the first time since she’d laid eyes on Ripper, her reaction was not hatred. And that was bad. Rage opened her mouth slightly to breathe. Ripper was damn attractive, she’d always been aware of that, but there had always been a barrier between them.
Her rage.
And now it was fading.

Ripper’s raw need, something she’d always been aware of on some level, now tore at her heart. He didn’t reach out with his power. Instead, she could see it in his expression and manner. He seemed innocent, hopeful that this time she’d give him what he wanted, what he needed, what he craved. The same softness she now felt for Dean and Shade, also crept over her for Ripper.
A compassion
she’d never once given him in their six years as lovers.

“Come inside,” he told her. Again, he kept his power sheathed, waiting to see if she would obey by her own choosing.